Predictable isn't in our vocabulary
by Nianai Bell Nezumi
Summary: No one really knows what life is going to throw at them. Yamamoto learns this the hard way one night as he is walking home from work. Or the one where Yamamoto is a good guy DJ and Gokudera has more than one dirty little secret.


As the final beats of music fade out and a new even quicker bass begins to cover it, Yamamoto grins proudly at the crowd below him, adrenaline rushing through him from another successful night of work. Seeing his replacement making her way to the stage, Yamamoto grabs his water bottle and slips off the elevated stage quickly.

He nods in greeting at the new DJ coming to take over for him before he pushes his way through the crowd of dancers on the floor. If it was any other night he would stay longer to watch the club goers. He finds them fascinating in all honesty. These clubbers are all different but still the same; each night there's different people but they all come in for the same reasons. Someone is celebrating a promotion or birthday, an unfortunate clubber has just had their heart broken and is out to prove they don't need a partner, or they are looking for some escape from the boring reality of life. Really his job is great at providing him access to these sights, but unfortunately his roommate has an important job interview in the morning and Yamamoto can't bring himself to slink into the house in the early hours of the morning and risk waking him.

Instead he briefly stops by his designated locker, grabbing his wallet and jacket. It's cold tonight and even though his apartment is barley a block and a half away, he's walking in the cold. The extra fabric will be necessary. 20 seconds later he is already back in the crowed dance room where he quietly blends in.

He does figure however, that he's earned a drink after his outstanding work tonight and makes a beeline for the bar. He kind of knows the bartender tonight and he orders a basic drink which she serves with a slight blush on her cheeks. Yamamoto tips back the drink, enjoying the slight burn on his throat before he pushes back the glass and a couple of dollars towards the blond. He catches her nervous gaze again and he playfully winks in her direction. She flushes and he laughs before he turns around and begins another trek through the packed dance club.

He's completely used to watching these people from his stage and he knows the quickest route out of here. Several times he catches a stumbling girl in heels much too high and pushes her back into the mob. Other times he narrowly avoids mysterious roaming hands from the crowd and soon enough he's bouncing out the front doors of the club.

The bouncer, Ryohei grins before yelling (quite loudly) for him to have a wonderful and extreme night. Yamamoto laughs heartily and waves goodnight before he walks away from the bright lights and blaring music of the club. Soon enough he's turning a corner and the lights and music have almost completely faded. Once the music is gone, Yamamoto feels the cold more fiercely, his grip tightening around his jacket collar.

The route is familiar and his feet move without needing direction which leaves Yamamoto time to think. He wonders if he should call his dad tomorrow, his birthday is coming up soon and really he misses the old man. Maybe he'll even drop by for a day or two, it has been awhile…

He cuts through an alleyway which effectively cuts the cold breezes and he sighs. He can almost see his little apartment up ahead. Just as he makes another turn Yamamoto stops cold and stares.

Shit.

For the first time in his life he's walked onto the scene of a mugging.

Neither of the participants have noticed him and Yamamoto quickly asses the scene. One man, who is easily twice the size of Yamamoto, is holding a tiny girl up to the wall with a knife pressed against her throat and a hand that's pulling her bag out of her hands. Even from this distance he can hear her whimpering.

His mind shuts down and Yamamoto scoops up a nearby stone and using the years of baseball practice he has, he throws the stone as hard as he can. It nails its target with practiced ease and the thug growls as he turns his face to see the intruder.

"Hey! I don't think she's interested in you man, you should just let her go." He taunts, smirking at the irritated glare sent his way.

The man's grip loosens on the girl but it isn't enough for her to do anything more than gaspingly inhale a shaky breath. He's going to have to do more if he wants her to be able to flee.

Yamamoto returns his focus to the threat in front of him. He picks up another stone causally. "Well, I understand why she wouldn't want you near her. I can smell you all the way from over _here."_

He can almost hear the man's self-control snap as he turns fully towards Yamamoto. His grip slackens considerably on the girl and Yamamoto smiles slightly.

"What is your problem asshole?" The man bellows, taking another step forward and drops the girl. She finally coughs, the cold night air probably burning her lungs. Yamamoto feels bad for her but the adrenaline makes his already brash personality that much bolder. He feels the tension radiating around the hulking man before him. A challenging smirk flits across his lips. "Why don't you come over here and find out?"

The man accepts the invitation willingly, charging Yamamoto, his prey efficiently forgotten.

When there was enough distance between them Yamamoto catches the girl's wide eyes, his hands coming up to cup his mouth, "Now would be a good time to run miss!"

There's only a momentary pause, the girl's eyes widening even more before she listens to his advice, grabs her purse and rushes out the other end of the alley into the open street. Yamamoto mentally wishes here a safe trip home.

A swing aimed at his jaw brings him back to reality and Yamamoto quickly ducks, automatically switching to defensive mode.

"Look Mr. Hero, your attention better be on me if you don't wanna end up in a hospital!"

Admittedly Yamamoto knows he isn't much use in a fight. He has decent reflexes, muscles mass and common sense (okay that part was questionable) but he's never found enjoyment in beating people up. Not to mention he's considerably lacking in the experience part. Honestly he was only doing this because he couldn't just let that thug hurt someone. He'll just have to hold his ground for a bit and hope the brute gets bored. He knows he'll probably wind up with a few bruises but it was nothing he couldn't deal with.

The mugger certainly knows what he was doing though and by the time the thug felt satisfied punching the shit out of Yamamoto, the DJ was panting hard, wiping sweat and blood away from his mouth and nose. He winced as his hand brushed his cheek and realizes how much that hurts too.

He'd be lying to himself if he didn't acknowledge the proud twinge in his gut as he eyes the obviously broken nose on his attacker. The guy's also favoring his left arm and Yamamoto thinks he probably land one or two good shots tonight.

The larger male yanks Yamamoto up by his torn tee-shirt and Yamamoto winces as the toxicity of the male's breath as it hits him. His grin is ugly and twisted and Yamamoto wishes he didn't look quite that lame in the moment. Obviously this is the perfect time for the brute to gloat because he slams the Japanese male against the bricks. Hard.

He's entirely too smug when he asks, "Have you learned your lesson hero?"

Yamamoto grins at him and supplies, "I should only pick fights with people my own size, and not overgrown angry brutes?"

The other male is less than impressed with his witty remark and he slams Yamamoto against the wall (again) for emphasis.

"You've got jokes don't you? Well maybe this will help your sense of humor."

Yamamoto knows he should close his eyes against the incoming fist but if he did he would have missed the shocked expression settle onto the man's mug. The guy pauses his assault before he looks behind him.

Yamamoto's own lips twist down into a surprised frown, eyes following his attacker's gaze to the side. And what they see surprises them both.

Standing just a little behind the men is a small silver haired male. Yamamoto wonders what could've caught his attention about the newcomer until he notices the gun digging into the guy's side. Ohhh. That would do it.

The new guy's face is impassive and he seems slightly annoyed at the situation. Realizing that he has caught everyone's attention he digs the gun deeper into the brute's ribs. Yamamoto notices the flash of light that catch on the multitude of rings on his slender hands, and thinks about how much smaller the guy is than himself or the thug. Yet he seems poised about his position and Yamamoto admires that. He also realizes he's staring intently at the silverette because when green eyes flash at him (very obviously annoyed) he smiles apologetically.

The green eyes hover on Yamamoto for a second more before they switch back to their mutual enemy. Those same eyes seem to darken a shade with deadly intent. "Why don't you drop him and go on about your business?" he asks coolly.

The mugger turns slightly and seems to notice the slightness of the male threatening him. Of course this just makes him laugh.

"You're a ballsy brat aren't you?" He looks back at Yamamoto and sizes him up again. "ah, it looks like you ain't got much fight left in you anyways." A moment later Yamamoto feels his back connect with the cold street and he's staring into a dark starless sky.

He sits up, shaking the sudden haze from vision. He watches as the newcomer backs up, putting distance between the two. Yamamoto tries to stand up to help but he feels the world slip from underneath him and he falls back onto his butt and can only watch worriedly. Even with the gun he's pretty sure the guy has no chance.

Again those green eyes are on him, "Don't you dare try to help." He turns his gaze back up to the mugger. "I don't need help."

"You sure about that pretty boy? Your little gun ain't going to help you here."

Unexpectedly the shorter male tosses the gun away, his left foot sliding behind him and his arms coming up to his face. The mugger laughs before throwing a punch.

Ignoring the male's warning Yamamoto tries to stagger to his feet, ready to aid as much as he can. Unfortunately he landed harder than he thought and the movement makes him queasy. The DJ drops to his knees, biting back the vile in his throat. Once the world stops spinning, he peeks up curiously at the fight before him. For the second time that night he is surprised by what he sees.

Within a matter of moments the smaller male has managed to side step or deflect each jab thrown his way, his feet gliding over the pavement as if he's dancing and Yamamoto watches as the male ducks under another punch before he reaches out and grasps the thugs thick forearm. It seems like a dumb move on his part, the male obviously is out matched in terms of strength and the mugger tries to shake his arm free. Still the cool expression is fixed to the silverette's face and Yamamoto is on the verge of questioning his sanity when the small male jerks the arm in his hold, throwing the thug off balance. He steps around the thug before twisting the arm into a terribly awkward position behind the male's back. There's obvious pain scrawled across his face and then the two make eye contact. The pair of green eyes remain cold while the other realize the actual danger present. Suddenly the small male pushes up with all his might and Yamamoto cringes as he hears the cracking of a dislocated shoulder.

There's a pained gasp before he's tossed to the ground, the calm male watching patiently as the thug turned victim tries not to cry into the concrete. The silverette seems satisfied and retrieves his gun, walks up and pushes a heel into the other's face. He raises his arm, his gun making a direct line for the loser's head.

Another emotion much stronger than the lingering nausea overpowers Yamamoto and he staggers up, waving his hand warningly.

"Wait!"

The two fighters seem to realize Yamamoto is still there and mild annoyance flicks across the gunman's face.

Yamamoto takes a deep breath, evening his breathing before locking eyes with the small male. "Don't kill him. Yeah he's a kinda a jerk but he shouldn't die for what he did tonight! The cops could handle him instead."

The silver haired male's lip turns down, and Yamamoto feels the annoyance from him. The strange man remains motionless, gun still pointed at the robber's bruised face. He stares back at him, displeasure obvious in his eyes but he keeps them trained on the DJ and Yamamoto refuses to back down.

Silence ticks by and Yamamoto begins to think he's lost this fight when the other male sighs and drops his arm, his gun vanishing into his jacket. Yamamoto lets out a sigh he hasn't realized he was holding escape him. Crisis adverted.

Just as Yamamoto thinks that's the end of it the silverette raises his leg and lands a powerful kick to the thug's stomach. The gunman curses in another language and turns on his heels, acting as if nothing unusual has occurred. Yamamoto notices the male pull a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of his jacket pocket before he lights up. He also realizes that the smaller male is wearing a suit and he prefers not to think about what type of man wears a suit this late at night and wanders around downtown playing a dirty vigilante.

And really Yamamoto should just let him leave. Let him turn around and walk away like this whole fiasco never happened. Obviously that's the other's intent. That guy is trouble and his gut is telling him that he is involved in some nasty shit but there was something about him and the way he had looked at him and Yamamoto hadn't met anyone like him. And he was intrigued by the silverette with the sea green eyes.

He scrambles fully up to his feet, eyes never leaving the man's suited back.

He's a few footsteps away when the other spins around to face him. Yamamoto smiles at the suspicion evident on his face and takes another careful step closer. The mysterious man does a once over before he stares at the man he just saved.

Yamamoto bows slightly in thanks before bolting upwards, his face splitting into a grin. There's laughter that would be awkward for anyone else on his lips. He watches his 'savior' warily watch him and he admits to himself that he enjoys the pressure of the other's gaze.

"I appreciate you swooping in just now! You really saved me a trip to the hospital. And you don't even know me so that was really cool of you." Yamamoto pretends not to get his hopes up that the other will answer him.

All he gets is the other exhaling his cigarette smoke and a pointed look. "You tried to do the same thing yourself, didn't you idiot?"

He's slightly taken aback (the other's voice has a bit of a raspiness to it and it sends chills up his spine) There's a slight accent peeking through certain words and Yamamoto wonders where he's from.

"Well yeah, you're right… but hey, at least you could actually handle that guy."

Silence hangs between them and Yamamoto searches for something to say to keep the smaller male here. He gets sidetracked though, when he begins questioning his sense of self preservation. He had just witness the man almost _shoot _someone else without remorse and yet Yamamoto feels the need to speak, to say anything. He feels the seconds dragging by and his partner just levels a semi-annoyed glare his way.

"Uh, so I guess, I just want to say…" Yamamoto is stalling and they both know it. Yamamoto bites his lip, large hand raking through his spiky black hair nervously. He's never really been this tongue-tied before and it's unnerving.

"Thank you." Is all the male manages to say.

The two stand there awkwardly, one flicking the cigarette butt against the wall and the other watching his movements.

He takes a long drag on the stick, blows out a steady stream of smoke before shrugging. "Forget about it."

His brain begins to work again because finally the answer hits him. Yamamoto's face turns up in a smile and he reaches into his pocket. He extends his hand forward, offering a small scrap of paper to his rescuer. The other makes no movement towards it, doesn't even _look_ at it, instead watching Yamamoto's face for clues.

"I work for the night club right down the street, I'm a DJ there and as thanks for saving me I'd like to give you this." There's obvious hesitation there so he continues excitedly, "It's nothing bad, I promise! If you present this to the doorman they'll let you in for free. And…" he trails off, a little embarrassed about the next part.

"This will also get you backstage, kind of like a VIP ticket. I work tomorrow night and if you wanted to stop by maybe I could buy you a drink or something?" There's a stupidly hopeful grin on his face and Yamamoto misses the slight shoulder sag of his companion. Neither make a movement but Yamamoto refuses to lower his proffered hand.

The silver haired male's face makes an odd shape and there's another spark of a lighter that covers the awkwardness. Yamamoto's stubbornness has always been one of his charms and he grins when the silver haired male reaches for paper, his fingertips cold as they brush against Yamamoto's.

With that he turns around, and there's no backwards glance at Yamamoto who stands there with a wide grin stretched along his jaw.

Just as the suited male is about to vanish into the cities night life Yamamoto calls, "Is that a maybe?"

The other turns so Yamamoto is unable to see his face and he swears he hears a soft reply of 'probably' on the breeze.

* * *

He's anxious the next night and it shows. Half way into his shift and there's been no sign of his savior from the previous night. He wonders sadly if maybe everything really had been a tired hallucination like his roommate said. There's no way a beautiful gun wielding, suit and tie wearing man wanders the city at night and simply saves damsels in distress like him from his own foolish actions. There's a sigh on the tip of his lips but he distracts himself with spinning records and the headphones slipping down the side of his face.

When Yamamoto finally takes another glance at the crowed dance floor he spots an already familiar sweep of silver hair over by the bar. The DJ laughs loudly, startling the immediate dancers around him, although his laughter is soon swallowed up by the thumping music coursing through the building and he pours all the excitement he has into the rest of the show, hoping and partially knowing that there's a pair of green eyes watching him.

* * *

"You actually came!" Yamamoto exclaims, his eyes and smile wide enough to make the other male flinch.

He's slid his way from the stage and approaches the male by the bar, who's easily sips on the fresh drink the bartender has slipped him. He's dressed in a deep burgundy button up, black slacks and there are several bracelets around his wrists. His silver hair falls messily around his pale face and Yamamoto swallows a little harder than he should.

There's brief eye contact between the two, before the smaller male adverts his gaze back to the drink. He vaguely ponders why there's a plastic cartoon horse perched atop the rim of his glass before he realizes the DJ is speaking to him.

"So do you want to dance? Or maybe another drink? Dino's specialty drinks are the best!" the tan male says loudly. Green eyes follow his lips, purely to read the words quickly spilling from them, he insists to himself. The rapid movement of lips pauses and the male looks up to the happy face beside him. He blinks, processing the stream of words quickly.

He drowns the rest of the drink, setting the glass down with an inaudible click. He stands and slips a set of bills to pay for the alcohol before a warmer hand rests on his. He questions the action with a quirk of a silver brow. His companion nods at the blond bartender who waves off the fee with a knowing smirk that somehow irritates the foreigner.

Yamamoto expects to lead them somewhere quieter to talk, he guesses that's what the smaller male wants, and they weave through the crowd until there's an intentional pull at his shirt to stop him. He looks back at the male, surprised at the determined glint in his eyes. The other has a playful stance to him and it makes the DJ stop in his tracks.

The slim male seems perfectly content to start swaying right there and Yamamoto's a little more than surprised at the male's enthusiasm. He thought they wouldn't dance at all. He doesn't seem like a dancer in the slightest.

As he stands watching the silver haired male he realizes that he has no idea who he is. They haven't exchanged names and all they know is what they've seen in a brief brawl in an alley. Yet even with his gruffness and gun wielding weirdness, Yamamoto finds himself smiling down happily at the male. There's no unease and that almost scares him more so. He hasn't realized he's staring until there's a sharp pain in his ribs and a slight frown from his partner. Yamamoto refocuses on his partner, watching as his lips move slowly and Yamamoto realizes he's mouthing something at him.

**Can't dance?**

He smirks briefly.** Just warming up**

Yamamoto shakes his head and starts to mimic the other's movements. He's matching his partner's pace and the two share a moment of understanding before letting the music swallow them. He admits he's not used to being on this side of the DJ booth, but with the male beside him he thinks it isn't too bad. He's aware of the looks directed at them and he wondered if it was wrong to swell a little with pride.

They both keep a respectable distance from one another, which is impressive in the crowded club. Yamamoto is hyper aware of what's going on around them. He makes sure his hands don't brush the male beside him, makes sure they don't brush at all, even though Yamamoto really wants to reach out and brush his fingers through the silver strands of hair or to touch and see if his skin is really as soft as it looks. He quickly squashes the thought because it's weird and he's only known the guy for a brief time and the guy is probably dangerous. It doesn't stop him from sticking closer to the male throughout the next half hour of dancing.

His companion is getting bolder by the song though. He moves closer to Yamamoto, allowing them to brush with some beats, and he occasionally but purposely rubs against the DJ. And his eyes are definitely challenging the taller male, to what he isn't sure, but he'll find out. It's hot in the club with so many people but the silver haired male is close and his breath is warm when it fans against the taller male's neck. There's a moment where the small male is pushed flush up against him and he knows by the next song he knows he's going to have to bail, his heart can't take it.

Yamamoto taps the other's shoulder and mouths **too hot**, before motioning towards the back of the club. The other understands and follows easily after him. The crowd has gotten even thicker now and the males push their ways through the crowd.

They walk side by side to the lounge, and Yamamoto knows it will be empty except for Hibari who doesn't particularly like waiting for Dino in the heart of the club with all those 'herbivores' as he calls them. He also knows that the dark male will simply move locations, ignoring them completely and leave the two room to talk.

The back lounge is meant for staff and friends of staff and it's slightly disheartening how empty the room is when the two enter. True to habit, Yamamoto notices Hibari, who is polishing his tonfas on the couch. The two males make eye contact before the older male frowns, his eyes slanted into an apathetic look before he moves to the chair besides the lockers and suddenly the two are alone.

Without any offer the smaller male moves to the black faux leather couch and sits down confidently. He throws an arm over the back of the couch, long legs crossing over one another and Yamamoto realizes he looks like a fancy magazine ad. Instead of staring he moves to the mini bar and asks if the other wants a drink. There's an affirmative from behind him so he pours two glasses of ice water and proceeds to sit across from the male. He slides the drink towards the foreigner, waiting for the potentially awkward silence to ensue.

There's a quirked eyebrow and the newcomer has a slight hint of skepticism in his tone when he lowers his glass from his lips. "Water?"

Yamamoto nods, downing his drink quickly. "We were out there for a while and I've seen people overheat on the floor. It isn't pretty."

The other smirks, his fingertips swirling the sweat from the glass idly.

"You're looking out for someone again. It seems you do that a lot." He's referring to the incident last night and Yamamoto scratches the back of his neck embarrassedly.

"Guess it's a bad habit of mine." He admits. After a brief pause he continues on. "Last night could've certainly gone better! Eh, but my father always told me if I've got the ability to help someone then I should." He smiles fondly at his words and the other shakes his head gently. There's a pause before the darker male speaks again.

"Ah, by the way I've been meaning to thank you for last night. You were really cool in that alleyway, like some modern day superhero or something." Yamamoto grins but is surprised when the other's face tightens minutely and he mutters.

"I am far from a hero DJ-san."

The atmosphere hangs heavier now and Yamamoto dislikes that he has caused the frown on the other's face.

"Yamamoto." He says, changing the subject. "My name's Yamamoto Takeshi"

Jade eyes watch him curiously as Yamamoto smiles brightly. "Not DJ-san." He finishes helpfully.

The other is quiet for a bit and Yamamoto believes he might never actually learn the guy's name.

"Gokudera Hayato, but I think I like DJ-san better." There's an odd forced frown on Gokudera's face and Yamamoto suspects that he's trying not to smirk. _Gokudera_. He sighs internally, glad to finally have a name to put with the small male's face. It somehow fits him, Yamamoto thinks as his companion downs his water.

Yamamoto doesn't realize he's staring until Gokudera flicks small drops of condensation on his face. He blinks, clearing the water from his eyes, chuckling at himself for losing his himself with his company here. Gokudera is pulling out his cigarettes and Yamamoto recognizes the many rings adorning his fingers. They glint in the florescent lights as he pulls out a cigarette.

"You got something on your mind, DJ-san?" He lights up the smoke stick as he closes his eyes.

Yamamoto plays it off casually, laughing. "Eh? What do you mean?"

That earns him a small glare and Gokudera explains himself as if he was talking to a kid.

"You've been staring quite a lot at me tonight DJ-san. I'd like to know what has captured your attention."

"Just wondering what a suited man was doing in a back alleyway in the middle of the night Gokudera-kun" Yamamoto's attached the suffix without much thought even as the other wrinkles his nose at the sudden familiarity.

Gokudera spares him a sideways look before huffing out a smoke laced breath. "That's none of your concern." And that seems to be all he has to say about the matter.

He presses, now mostly curious why Gokudera is being so tight lipped. "Well, why did you save me? You could have walked right on by and not even glanced in my direction. But you stopped and helped me, and kicked that guy's ass. Hard."

Discomfort is beginning to creep onto Gokudera's expression as Yamamoto patiently waits for some explanation.

"I couldn't just let him beat the shit out of some dumb fuck trying to play hero." He supplies and Yamamoto suspects there is more to the look on Gokudera's face, although he drops the rest of his questions for now.

Gokudera shifts the conversation off of him by pinning the DJ with a reprimanding look. "What about you DJ-san? Is a VIP ticket your usual thanks to people who save your ass?" His tone drips with disapproval, but he doesn't look suspicious. Yamamoto laughs again while reaching for his glass.

"Well no, and I can't really explain why I did that. I should have backed off the moment I saw you holding that gun actually." Gokudera seems to be expecting that answer, his shoulders shrugging and eyes focused on his cigarette, and the smoke makes Yamamoto's eyes burn.

"But my gut told me not to let you go without saying _something_." He adds quickly.

Gokudera chuckles but its teasing, "So your best was to give me a ticket to the club you work at? Interesting choice."

"It was all I had." He admits. Yamamoto doesn't have much to his name financially but he has a job and people skills and that seems to be all he needs to get by.

"You showed up anyways." He points out with a sly grin.

Gokudera huffs, his eyebrow twitching. "Yeah, surprised myself with that move."

"Surprised me too honestly. Although I really was hoping that you'd come Gokudera-kun."

The admission is out there and Yamamoto doesn't regret saying it even if Gokudera looks like he regrets hearing it. There's quiet in the room and the two sit there wondering how exactly they had come to this.

"You are entirely too honest DJ-san, has anyone ever told you that?"

"Not recently! A few girlfriends have and my roommate but it makes him laugh so honesty isn't a bad thing."

Gokudera throws his head back onto the back of the couch, shaking his head before announcing, "You're an honest idiot."

Yamamoto laughs even though that probably wasn't a complement.

A door clicks shut and Yamamoto glances up at the newcomer. Dino is loosening the bowtie around his throat, his vest already slung over an arm. Hibari is instantly on his feet and stalks his way over to bartender's side.

The blond glances at the other two occupants in the room before smiling at Yamamoto kindly.

"Been trying to tell him that since he started working here. Isn't that right Yamamoto-kun?" He says in response to Gokudera's statement. Gokudera glances at the tall blond, trying to place him. He smirks when he figures it out. "Glad you agree bartender."

Dino shakes his head at the comment before resting an arm around Hibari's shoulder, placing a kiss to the dark haired male's lips quickly. Hibari isn't satisfied with that and pulls the blond down into a bruising lip lock. Dino promptly drops his vest and bowtie, his fingers choosing to grasp at the back of Hibari's head, his other hand at his hips.

Gokudera and Yamamoto avoid looking at one another and the couple before them, trying to ignore the lewd sounds of the two eating one another's face. Yamamoto coughs none too softly causing the couple to break apart, panting and flushed. Dino is obviously proud of his skills even as Hibari slams one of his tonfas into the elder's stomach. He has Dino's shirt in his fist and growls up to him, "You're late Cavallone."

Dino tilts his head, blond hair bouncing with the movement and the grin on his lips is sickening. "Guess you better punish me, huh Kyouya?"

The smaller of the two shots him a down right terrifying look and _growls._ "I'm gonna bite you to death."

The other two occupants of the room nearly leave right then until Hibari drags Dino out of the room by his collar. The silence the two leave behind is extremely loud in comparison to the prior events.

"Are they always like that?" Gokudera manages to say after a while. He's rubbing his forehead disbelievingly and his companion bites back the laughter bubbling in his throat. Instead of answering, he tugs off his over shirt, realizing how hot it was in the room, before tossing it over by his locker. Dino's jacket is still hanging there and Yamamoto figures that he probably doesn't need it tonight. "Nah." He chuckles lightly before looking Gokudera in the eye.

"They're usually worse."

"That's rather unfortunate."

"You get used to it. At least most of the staff has at this point."

Gokudera seems to buy that and takes another drag on the cigarette.

There's easy conversation for the next hour, Yamamoto laughing most of the time and his throat always tightens just a bit when he hears chuckling from Gokudera. The topics are generic but still interesting and the two are more relaxed by the end of it. The conversation stills for a bit as Gokudera mashes out the butt of another cigarette.

Yamamoto fiddles with his glass for a moment, not sure what to make of the silence. He wonders what's left to say, because he's already thanked him and finally gotten Gokudera's name. It's not like he's expecting more from this encounter, right? Even as he finishes the thought he knows he's not ready to leave. Being around the other male feels comfortable and right and he's not ready to end this. Whatever this is. And if it ends now, the small pessimistic part of his mind wonders if he he'll see the smoker again after tonight.

He hasn't realized that Gokudera's watching him, his eyes tracing every movement of Yamamoto. Green eyes trace the habitual smile that slips into place on his face, how tan hands tighten minutely around the empty glass of water, and the incessant tapping of his shoes against the tiled floor. He winces when Yamamoto absently rubs his fingers against his split lip. He's watching and waiting to figure out the idiot but obviously well-meaning DJ.

Gokudera exhaled quietly. He hasn't met a lot of people he has to watch himself around. In his line of work he just doesn't meet people like Yamamoto. He only knows thugs and killers. People he has to force respect or fear from. Yamamoto doesn't seem to want anything from him besides companionship, he didn't know to fear Gokudera, even after seeing the gun in his hand last night. Even then Yamamoto hadn't been freaked out like he should have been. Instead the DJ had laughed and talked with Gokudera like he was his friend.

Gokudera never had never been with seemingly normal guys like him before. Guys that had a pretty normal childhood, with caring parents and friends and the likes. Ones that if he had grown up outside of his father's influence, he might of hung out with. Or laughed with. He doesn't know what to do and it makes him tense.

He shakes the thoughts away, frustrated with himself. There's never been a reason to doubt his life choices. He's content with his life; he's got rank, money, women if he wants them and most importantly he has respect. Really that's more than he ever thought he would have. He's got no time to interact with normal responsible members of society.

He's got no _right_ to be around Yamamoto.

The thought stops him cold, and shivers actually run along his shoulders and dammit there goes his last unrealistic thought of him being friends with Yamamoto.

Yamamoto looks startled as Gokudera begins to shake. His eyebrows raise into a concerned slant and he looks around for the over shirt he had discarded.

"Oi, Gokudera-kun, if you were cold you should've said something. We don't have a lot but you're welcome to use my shirt. Or I've got a heavier jacket if that doesn't work."

While the DJ is retrieving his shirt from the pile of stuff by his locker, Gokudera runs suddenly cold fingers through his hair and laughs tiredly. Yamamoto is before him now, offering his shirt to the small male. The smile on his face is warm and it makes Gokudera duck his head because the other is just too innocent and he really needs to leave quickly. He knows that it's not right for him to want to spend time with Yamamoto. If the DJ ever got mixed up in his life style and then got hurt Gokudera would feel like a bigger bastard than his father.

Steeling his resolve Gokudera looked down at the shirt being offered to him.

"Yamamoto Takeshi, do you know who I am?"

The other man isn't prepared for the question and he blinks curiously at Gokudera.

"You're Gokudera-kun?" He answers honestly if not a bit hesitantly.

"Anything else?"

"Uh, you're a foreigner and you like suits and guns and getting people like me out of trouble?" Yamamoto supplies, his empty hand scratching the back of his neck while he waited for the punchline.

"Wrong." Gokudera pushes up to his feet with a gun already pressed to Yamamoto's side and a hand gripping the front of his shirt. "I'm Gokudera Hayato, right hand man to the Rosas Famiglia. I do like suits because it's part of my uniform, I tolerate guns but I prefer dynamite and I usually am the one getting idiots like you _into_ trouble. I'm not one of the good guys DJ-san." His top lip curls bitterly, mostly for effect but also he hates how the admittance tastes in his mouth.

"So the answer to my question, Yamamoto Takeshi, is no. You don't know who I am." Gokudera maintains steady eye contact with Yamamoto, gauging his reaction. He was being harsh and he knew it but it was just easier this way. He could scare off Yamamoto then they could break ties completely and he wouldn't jeopardize himself or the idiot again. He wouldn't hurt anyone he didn't have to.

* * *

This was certainly unexpected.

Yamamoto hadn't been prepared for the sudden movement or speech from Gokudera. Yamamoto had just offered him his shirt and BAM then there's a gun was pressing into his side. He didn't know where Gokudera had stashed the piece but he was getting the vague impression that Gokudera always had one on him. Which gave the story some credibility and it did kind of made sense he guessed but the man before him couldn't be a member of the mafia. Gokudera had saved him. Gokudera hadn't hurt him or scared him. Although he was harsh, he wasn't mean. What he was doing now had to be for a reason. Yamamoto felt the tension coming from Gokudera and he knew that the smaller male was trying to prove something. Probably to both of them.

He began to breathe normally, smiling at Gokudera warmly and wrapped his hand around the one at his throat. Gokudera's eyes hardened instantly.

"I know that you're a good person Gokudera-kun." Yamamoto laughed. "Bad guys don't save 'idiots trying to be hero's and then come to a club for the same idiot. Bad guys laugh at the idiot's misfortune and hope that it teaches him a lesson."

Gokudera's fingers clenched angrily around his shirt. "Don't be a fucking idiot. Good guys don't go around pulling guns on innocent DJs."

"They do if they're trying to prove a point." Yamamoto replied smartly.

"The only point I'm proving is that you have no idea who you're messing with."

"But it's my choice who I associate with isn't it?"

Yamamoto squeezes the hand he's holding and he thinks he's won that one until Gokudera hisses at him. "It isn't your choice if it gets you killed."

This was bad. The conversation was steering away from what Gokudera had hoped. The idiot almost made sense which was absolutely terrifying. All the time he'd been pushing Yamamoto away only seemed to make the other more insistent. So he resorted to another method; forcible removal of the source of conflict. Gokudera knew it was time to leave. It was just wrong to be here with Yamamoto, to entertain the idea of being friends. Even this little bit could get him killed.

So Gokudera released his grip on Yamamoto, tucking his gun back into his pants, grabbed his jacket and stalked over to the exit before Yamamoto had time to catch himself.

Already feeling like an idiot, Gokudera braced himself to walk away and leave. He refused to admit there was any bit of him that disagreed with leaving Yamamoto and his unconventional friendship. That would be weak and he was not weak.

Gokudera heard the footsteps a moment before Yamamoto's body crashed into him. The smaller male cursed loudly as he felt a hand pull his shoulder to turn him around and face the determined look on Yamamoto's face.

"You don't have to worry about protecting me." He felt Gokudera stiffen at that. He couldn't blame the Mafioso though, it did sound like something you said to your lover, not a man you met in a dark alleyway a night ago. He felt his face warm slightly at his own words, embarrassed to say it aloud.

"No one said I would ever do that shit. But someone would have to, just look at you after last night." Gokudera retorted, still trying to be gruff.

Gokudera set his jaw, the determined look plain across his face and all Yamamoto can do is soften his voice.

"I'm far too stubborn to die if that's what you're so worried about. And there's nothing saying that a small fry like me would even be on anyone's radar. I mean, I probably wouldn't catch anyone's attention from your work…place?" Yamamoto had no idea what to call Gokudera's job. He had never given thought to the mafia before tonight so the terminology wasn't really all there.

He leaned back a little, a little worried how rigid Gokudera was in his grasp and let the other have room to breathe. He didn't quite let go but his hands slipped from his shoulders down to his forearms.

"It's not about being stubborn you imbecile, although you are _incredibly_ stubborn." He pointedly ignored the pleased look on Yamamoto's face.

"Don't forget that I've seen you fight before, that's how you got those bruises. You're lucky that's all you got." He breathed heavily through his nose, not completely comfortable with talking things through like this. Usually all he had to do was wave his gun and strong arm people into agreement. This seemed much more personal and to be honest he wasn't really good at things like that.

"Besides even just being casual friends would make you a target. An innocent civilian being friends with a high ranking Mafioso? No one would believe that and you'd attract a lot of attention that way. Anyways why would being friends be worth the trouble?" His hands are moving about, trying to explain his point, but unfortunately the motions only make Yamamoto smile half-heartedly. Just as Gokudera seemed rather confident he was being reasonable, Yamamoto decided he already knew what his final decision was too.

The two stood there, neither one backing down. Yamamoto shrugged his shoulders, smilingly at Gokudera's thorough analysis of their situation. He noticed that Gokudera wouldn't look him in the eye, he sighed quietly, surprised at how clear the answer was to him. "I think you'd be worth the trouble. I like seeing you and talking to you and as much as you're convincing yourself otherwise, I think you do too Gokudera-kun."

He didn't mean too, honestly but when Gokudera heard the downright huskiness that colored Yamamoto's tone, he shivered. The DJ was oddly charming and it seemed like he was oblivious about his attractiveness. Which is really what Gokudera didn't need at this exact moment. He was trying to slip out of this situation and being attracted to him wasn't really making this easier. He knew the alcohol in his system wasn't to blame, he had drank far more than this and still made far better decisions than he was making now. His hands clenched tightly together, his nails digging into the fleshy part of his palm and all he could think was _what the fuck was wrong with him tonight?_

Maybe he really was going soft, just like that damn bastard Bel said because he clicked his teeth together before pushing the tall male off of him.

Yamamoto looked hurt for a second which just made Gokudera roll his eyes before messing jerkily with his hair.

"Are all you Japanese people so goddam touchy?" he mumbled grouchily while he avoided eye contact with the other man, but he didn't bolt and that was an answer in itself.

He didn't even need to see the tension drop from the idiot's shoulders and the easy laugh of relief. Gokudera just scowled deeper. Warm hands squeezed his wrists quickly as Gokudera finally looked his idiot former damsel-in-distress in the eye. He instantly rolled his eyes again at the triumphant smile there. Hopeless.

"So does that mean you're willing to try this?" Yamamoto's hopeful but mostly confident smile was painfully stupid to look at but Gokudera clicked his teeth together, shrugging off the hands around his wrist.

"You really have no sense of self-preservation do you?" He didn't sound nearly as gruff as he intended to.

Yamamoto laughed before catching Gokudera's shoulders with one arm. Yep no sense of self preservation. Or personal space apparently. The DJ had enough sense to look thoughtful although the tilt to his lips proved he was acting. "I have enough. Maybe you just have too much Gokudera-kun."

Gokudera scoffed. "Whatever DJ-san." He really wasn't in the mood to have Yamamoto destroy all of his comfort zones in one night. Instead he haughtily jutted out his jaw and motioned back to the club. "So what now? You gonna show me the perks of being 'friends' with a DJ or what?"

The laughter that tore from Yamamoto didn't even bother the mafioso this time as he pretended he was okay with how tonight had turned out. Even as he watched the taller male retrieve his over shirt by the couch, Gokudera reflected on the sheer amount of balls it had to take to be Yamamoto Takeshi. He smirked as the two made eye contact, Yamamoto obviously pleased with himself.

Maybe they could pull this off after all.

* * *

A/N: And this is why stories I write are so sporadic, y'all this was originally five hundred words and part of the 100 themes I was doing. This got way out of control.

I am so sorry...

Warnings: Language as usual, slight violence and the boys being weird.


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